


Sick and Tired (but not alone)

by crankipli3r



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, I love them ok, M/M, Unus Annus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankipli3r/pseuds/crankipli3r
Summary: After the hot dog eating video, Ethan and Mark don’t feel too good. Luckily, they have each other to turn to for comfort.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 621





	Sick and Tired (but not alone)

**Author's Note:**

> so i just whipped this up pretty quickly because i love these boys and i missed writing them. also unus annus is a glorious source of fresh crankiplier content, so this may not be my only fic related to those videos. hope you enjoy :)

“Okay, so.” Ethan pulls an uncomfortable face as he peels his garbage bag “poncho” off. “So maybe that wasn’t, like...the smartest thing we’ve ever done.”

Mark runs one clammy, hot-dog-scented hand through his hair and nods slowly. God, he feels gross. “Yeah, no, I don’t think it was,” he agrees, swallowing down the mild wave of nausea slowly swelling in his upset stomach. “Fuck, I gotta wash my hands. And, like, my whole body.”

“Dude, if I had the energy to shower right now I would,” Ethan says, his own voice pinched with discomfort. He’s bent over the kitchen counter slightly and has an arm wrapped around his middle; Mark feels the sudden urge to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from the world. “I kinda just want a nap, though.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Mark says. He turns on the kitchen tap and runs his hands under the hot water, drizzling them with dish soap as he swallows down a disgusting burp. “Jesus Christ. Oh god, that was _ such _ a mistake.”

Suddenly Ethan’s pressed right up against Mark’s side at the sink. “I told you before we started that we might need the garbage cans.” He sticks his hands under the stream of water and his fingers brush Mark’s, darting in to leech some of the soap bubbles clinging to Mark’s palms. “Share,” he chuckles softly, blue eyes sparkling as they meet Mark’s tired brown ones. o

Mark knew what he was getting into — or at least, he had some idea — when he and Ethan first came up with the concept for Unus Annus. He knew the project would entail working closely, physically and intellectually, with Ethan, and that they’d be putting themselves in various compromising situations while filming these 365 algorithm-fucking videos. But even though they’ve made dozens of videos together, shared a tour bus, and _ literally _ showered together before, Mark doesn’t think he’s ever felt as close to Ethan as he has during these first few weeks of filming for this new project. He can’t remember the last time he laughed as hard as he has while filming this ridiculous shit, and he loves it. 

He loves Ethan. So fucking much. 

And he _has_ to say it now, because if he doesn’t he thinks he’ll explode from more than the six hot dogs he’d wolfed down on camera. Taking one of Ethan’s hands between his own and scrubbing gently beneath the water, Mark asks, “When was the last time I told you I love you?” 

Ethan’s cheeks immediately blaze a brilliant pink and his smile goes from “fond” to “adoring but flustered” in half a second. “Um. L-Like yesterday, maybe?” he replies, looking down at their joined hands like he’s just discovered a vein of precious metal in a mine. “Haven’t been quite the sappy, doting boyfriend you told me you’d be last month.”

Mark scoffs dramatically, ignoring the way the word “boyfriend” makes his heart skip a few beats even after dating Ethan for a whole month. “Hey, I dote! I’m doting right now!” He presses a loud, sloppy kiss to Ethan’s temple and turns off the sink now that their hands are clean, reaching for a dish towel. “And look, I can be sappy! I — ugh.”

Mark’s stomach chooses this moment to gurgle loudly, and the nausea creeps up in his throat again. Swallowing hard, he presses a damp fist to his mouth and closes his eyes. _ I am never eating more than one hot dog in a single day ever again. _

“I’d continue doting, but that nap sounds pretty good right now,” Mark says when the wave passes a few seconds later. 

Ethan nods in agreement, still looking a bit green around the gills himself. “Yeah. Couch or bed?”

“First, the two of you need some mint tea.” 

Like an actual fairy godmother, Amy floats into the kitchen holding two of her handmade ceramic mugs. The tripod bag is slung over her shoulder and she sends Mark and Ethan a fondly exasperated look, making her way to the microwave. “You sure you’re not gonna need those garbage cans? Cuz I can get those too.”

“Amy, what would we do without you?” Mark sighs gratefully. There’s no one better he could think of to help him and Ethan through this hectic year and make sure they don’t cause real damage to themselves. “I think just the tea will be okay for now.”

“Thank you so much, seriously,” Ethan chimes in as he finishes drying his hands. He immediately loops an arm through Mark’s and slumps against him a little. “We’ll be in my room.”

Still feeling sluggish and greasy, Mark finds himself curled up on Ethan’s bed a minute later, wrapped around the smaller boy like the clingy boyfriend he wishes he wasn’t. Ethan doesn’t seem to mind, though, burrowing his face further into Mark’s broad chest and clenching his fingers in Mark’s button-up shirt. “I feel really not good,” Ethan groans, voice muffled by the fabric. 

Mark moves one of his hands from Ethans’s back to his hair. “Me too,” he murmurs, tangling his fingers in the soft brown tresses. “Hopefully the tea will help. I trust Amy.”

“Yeah.” Ethan burps softly against Mark’s chest and whines. “Fuck Joey Chestnut. He can keep his world record, I don’t want it.”

“Me neither. Not like this.” Mark leans forward to brush a kiss to Ethan’s forehead. “Hey. Did you mean what you said about no one wanting to kiss a dude with hot dog breath?”

Ethan drums his fingertips against Mark’s sternum and pretends to contemplate the question. “I guess it would actually depend on the dude,” he says after a few moments. “Like, if Joey Chestnut came up to me after a competition and tried to lay one on me, I’d run.”

“I mean, same.” Mark tightens his arm around Ethan slightly. 

“But if, like, a stupidly handsome, famous YouTuber propositioned me…” Ethan lifts his head and meets Mark’s eyes, trying to look innocent and only mostly succeeding. “...I guess I could be persuaded then. Even if he did just eat six hot dogs in ten minutes.”

“I think,” Mark whispers, leaning in slowly, “the same goes for me.”

Even though Mark’s been allowed to kiss Ethan for a month now, the feeling of their lips meeting is still novel and breathtaking. Despite the taste of ketchup and cheap hot dog, Mark holds Ethan’s head in place gently by the hair and kisses him slow and deep. Ethan responds in kind, sighing into Mark’s mouth like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than here. Mark feels the same way, and the ache in his stomach fades away the longer the kiss lasts. He could do this for hours, for days, forever. 

“I love you,” Mark croons when they break for air. “Even after watching you cram seven hot dogs in your mouth at once.”

Ethan giggles and nips at Mark’s bottom lip. “As if that didn’t turn you on.”

“It really didn’t, but it was fucking hilarious.”

“I’m always hilarious, which is why you love me. … Love you too, by the way.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the tea is finally steeped enough. Amy picks up the two mugs and walks down the short hallway to Ethan’s bedroom, but she stops in the doorway when she sees her friends on the bed. 

Ethan is lying practically on top of Mark with his head pillowed on Mark’s right shoulder. Mark has a hand and his nose in Ethan’s hair, his face the picture of bliss. Their arms and legs are tangled together haphazardly, but they both look like they’ve never been comfier, and Amy can’t bring herself to wake them. 

She pads to the nightstand beside the bed and sets the steaming mugs down quietly. After draping a nearby blanket over the boys’ lower halves, she smiles at them, shakes her head, and leaves the room. She has a feeling sleep will be a better remedy for them than her tea. 

  
  



End file.
